Cereal Murder
by Mokuren no Ken
Summary: A story I wrote for my English class. There's a murderer loose in Boston and it's up to Arthur and Alfred to find out who it is. In which there's an interesting ending... There's no lemon because of teacher appropriate-ness, so it's rated M for gore-ish. Implications of slash.


Okay, so I had this as multiple chapters before but then it was like, screw this, post it as one giant oneshot! So yeah, here it is... Hope you like~

* * *

><p>Arthur sighed, kicking his feet up onto his desk, chomping on his bowl of Special K® with Strawberries. Business was slow these days, leaving him, the P.I. Arthur Kirkland, with nothing to do. While his area was a generally busy place, the crime rate was low, unfortunately for him. He placed the bowl of cereal onto his pitifully bare desk and surveyed the cluttered room before him, massaging his temples. <em>Oh, God, I need to clean up soon...<em> _I should make Al do it... _An evil smirk spread across his face, thinking of the tortures he would soon bring upon his childhood friend turned assistant.

Arthur Kirkland was an amateur detective, only in the business for just over a year. He was 25 and stood at 5' 7". Anybody who looked at him would always first make a comment about his bright dandelion colored hair, his spring green eyes, or his insanely bushy eyebrows. Despite his boyish childish looks, Arthur was a black belt in karate and had learned tae kwon do as well as how to shoot a gun. He was fluent in multiple languages and was able to translate and hold a conversation in over 15 languages. All in all, he was a formidable detective. Arthur also loved cereal, an unhealthy obsession if anyone else noticed. The only trait he lacked was experience.

He stood up and strutted to the window, emerald eyes staring through the foggy glass. The detective gazed at bustling cars streaming across the intersection of Park St and Beacon St, peering in distaste at the stream of customers entering and leaving the Dunkin' Donuts® situated beneath his apartment. The detective despised all the commotion that permeated through the floor.

A soft knock jolted him out of his daze. Knowing who it was, he called, "What do you want this time, Al?"

The forest colored door creaked open a crack and in peeked the sandy blond head of Alfred Jones, the aforementioned assistant. "I brought breakfast if you want. It's from Dunkin' Donuts."

Beckoning with his hand, Arthur invited Alfred into the room. "What is there?"

"Well, I know you don't like extremely sweet foods, so I got you some raspberry iced tea, cheeseburger breadsticks, and oatmeal raisin cookies."

"Fine. You want some cereal?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any disgustingly sweet ones?"

"Oh, God no," Arthur gagged, "You know I hate anything sweeter than who knows what. I don't even know either."

"Well, since it's kind of quiet, you want to go for a bike ride?"

This time, Arthur peered at the azure-eyed assistant with an "are you serious?" look. He gestured to the fogged up window that was glistening with frost.

Sheepishly, Alfred let a slight grin slip. "So, no biking then?"

Jade eyes rolled in their sockets, impressed and exasperated at the young man's antics. The pair continued to chat, about both menial and meaningful tasks. Occasionally Alfred would let out a short laugh that sounded like bell, merry and joyful. Arthur would just smirk at his companion, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. They had, of course, been friends for nearly 20 years now.

Their conversation was cut short by a phone ringing, both scrutinizing at the cluttered floor.

"Should we answer it?"

"What if it's important?"

"Ah, what the hell, let's look for the damn phone." Arthur bent over, brushing countless files and papers out of the way, searching for his dropped phone.

"Found it!" Alfred's cry of excitement drew Arthur's head up to stare at the naïve blond.

"Answer it, then!"

Flipping the phone open, Alfred held it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"About time, Arthur! I was calling you, and it just kept ringing, and then I was like, what if Arthur's dead, and then I reasoned with myself that you couldn't possibly be dead, so then I just let the phone keep ringing, but then it took too long, and I know you always answer your phone, and I was considering getting over to your apartment, but then-"

"Francis, it's me, Alfred."

A crackly sigh emanated from the cell. "Well, then. That was slightly embarrassing. Can I talk to Arthur?"

Alfred failed to suppress a grin as he passed the phone to his friend. Shooting him a what-can-I-do look, Arthur responded, "Hey, Francis. What is it this time? I hope I actually get something out of this job."

"Nah, it's not so much of a job as it is a short investigation. We've found an abnormal amount of cat and dog bodies littered around Boston Common, and we were thinking you could check it out."

"Hold on a sec, " Covering the mouthpiece with his hand, Arthur turned to Alfred. "We free?"

"No, we just so happen to be having lunch with the president today," joked Alfred sarcastically. "Yes, we're free. Nothing to do here."

Returning to the phone, the P.I replied, "Sure. Where do we meet you?"

"You live right next to Boston Common. Just walk there, sheesh."

"Alright then, on the green bridge over the Swan Boats it is."

* * *

><p>Alfred shivered in the cold, glasses fogging up in the brumal weather, wrapping his arms around himself, desperately trying to keep warm. "Remind me again why we're out here in the freezing New England weather on a Saturday when we're not even getting paid for this?"<p>

Ignoring the contempt for the cold in his partner's voice, Arthur merely commented, "It's because Francis is our friend. And we help friends. Even if they are a pain to deal with. I still expect to be paid eventually though."

"We're such misers," the sky-blue eyed assistant giggled with a shiver.

Arthur just whacked him on the head and continued to search for Francis through the throng of people crowding along the bridge. He spotted a waving hand accompanied by a very familiar voice. "Aaaaarrrtthhhuuuuuurrrrr!"

Alfred grinned, "Well, now we've found Francis."

The panting Parisian came to a halt in front of the blond pair, both gazing down at out of breath man, gasping for air. "Any... way... the area... where... we found... the animals... is... over by... that... path..."

The two reluctantly followed Francis to a grassy area barred off with yellow "CAUTION" tape. Impressed, Arthur waited for his informer to provide him with an explanation. "So...?"

"Well, let's see. I guess it started with some early morning joggers who found a trail of blood and then that led them to this giant field of dead cats and dogs and other animals..." Francis's eyes darted around before halting on a particularly beautiful girl. He immediately shot over, ignoring the protests of his companions. Arthur and Alfred rolled their eyes at the sight of him attempting to flirt, which resulted in a sound slap on the face. He sheepishly sulked back to the duo and continued, "Anyway, they called the police and we decided to call you guys since you're awesome at finding clues. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need an ice pack."

Smirks spread across their faces as they watched Francis dejectedly amble across the patches of dead grass and snow.

" I kind of pity the person who hired him as a cop."

"Shut up," whacking Alfred lightly on the arm, Arthur stared at Francis's retreating back. "Then again, you may be right."

The detective pair grinned at each other and began looking for clues around the Common, questioning the witnesses who found the bodies there that morning.

They approached a young woman, around her late twenties or so.

"Excuse me, ma'am. What is your connection to this incident?"

She swerved around, glancing around nervously. "M-me?"

"Yes. Were you a witness or did you just happen across this scene?" The pair relaxed their tone, seeing the woman's obvious discomfort.

"Oh, uh, I just was taking a short walk in the morning. Since, you know, I don't really do well with crowds. And people. There was a long trail of some red or brown liquid. It-it was dried of course, but you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat, Mr-?"

"Arthur Kirkland, at your service."

"And his trusty assistant Alfred Jones!" Arthur lightly punched his childhood friend's head. He really had to learn when to act dignified. This was definitely not a time for joking around.

"Well then, Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Jones. I discovered that the trail led to this- this monstrosity. I-I then n-noticed that t-there were a c-couple other people cir-circling around here and I began to wonder if there was something wrong." She began to nervously twist her raven black hair around her finger, chewing on her bottom lip. "I heard someone call 911 and then a few minutes later the p-police arrived. A little while after that, you two arrived."

"Thank you for your time, Ms-?"

"Oh, how rude of me! I am Kaitlyn Marselle."

"Thank you, Ms. Marselle."

"No problem at all, detectives."

They left the woman and attempted to find another suspect whom they could question. "You think she did it?" Alfred whispered to Arthur.

"There is a possibility that she did, but we can't be sure. You saw how nervous she was. That could be a clue to her guilt, or it could just be that she said the truth and that she really doesn't fare well with other people." Glancing away, he found another character who looked like he could provide some useful information.

"Let's go see what he has to say." The duo approached the young man, who looked like he was a college student, late teens or early twenties. "Excuse me, what is your name and your connection to this incident?"

The college student turned around, surprise spread across his face. "Me?" The detectives nodded. "I'm Feliciano Vargas. I'm a senior at Emerson College. I was out for a morning jog through the Common when I saw some bloody snow. That obviously wasn't normal, so I strayed off my usual path to check it out." Excitment gleamed in his eyes. "Say, detectives, is this a murder? This is so exciting! I'm actually part of a real life murder mystery! With real detectives and murdered bodies! I major in Criminal Psychology, you know." Feliciano mentioned helpfully.

"Don't worry yourself about it. Tell us about what you saw and heard when you reached the crime scene."

"Well, let's see. I remember seeing three or four people gathered around the bodies, mourning about the 'poor kitties and puppies.' Aside from that, there weren't really many significant details that I can remember. Sorry if that's not enough."

"No problem," Alfred pulled out a notepad and pen. "Do you think you could point us to the other people that were there too?"

"Of course! There was that one lady that's standing over there. I saw you talking to her, so you probably questioned her already. There was also that man that's leaning against the tree over there, the one that's staring into the sky. Let's see, that couple was also there. You know, the ones who obviously have no idea how disgusting their PDA are," he grimaced, then continued. "Anyway, that lady over there was also one of the ones who was crowded around the animals. The lady with the peacock handbag and the insanely high heels. Hope I could be of some help!"

"You helped us with a lot. Thanks, Feliciano." Alfred held out his hand, which the Italian shook with gusto.

"Anytime I can help out a detective is awesome for me!"

The duo left the hyper collegian to attend some other suspects. Upon questioning, they discovered that all of them had a common beginning goal of only promenading or exercising through the Common before it became too crowded. It felt like they had hit a roadblock, with no clues linking to murder, but there was always more clues to be found.

They analyzed the grass and the tracks of destruction and blood. Finally, Alfred piped, "Found tracks! They look about size 9 or 10 sneakers."

His childhood friend leaned over his shoulder, trying to decipher the brand and type of the shoes that could make such a print. Unable to find any immediate matches, Arthur pulled out a camera and took a picture of the imprint, calling out for Alfred to follow him back to their office. They ducked under the yellow tape and sauntered out of the common.

* * *

><p>Arthur's bushy brows scrunched together in annoyance at the hustle and bustle surrounding the donut chain. With a knowing grin, Alfred whispered, "Want some donuts? <em>Iggy..."<em>_  
><em>

_Iggy_swatted at his smiling companion. He despised that childhood nickname, and Alfred knew it. "Come on, let's just get inside and analyze these damn footprints."

Alfred's grin stayed stuck to his face as he pushed open the door before them, entering their rented apartment/office. With a sigh, Arthur pulled out a chair from underneath the desk holding their desktop computer, printer, and scanner. Switching it on, he impatiently tapped his foot as the computer turned on infuriatingly slowly. When the device finally displayed the home screen with all the icons and documents present, he opened a browser and searched up "shoe footprints".

"Uh, Iggy? You do realize that's really vague, don't you?"

"Yes, now shut up," The Englishman hooked up the camera to the computer with their USB cable and waited for the damn thing to compute all the data. Arthur selected the pictures he had taken at the Common that morning and opened them. He found one that showed the entire footprint clearly imprinted in (bloody) snow and proceeded to find other pictures that matched the pattern on the bottom.

"Hey, Iggy."

"What?"

"There's some weird design on the shoe..."

Leaning in to squint at the image, Arthur did find a particularly obvious design of a leaf of some sort, so he specified his search to "shoe footprint leaf".

"That doesn't help, Iggy."

Arthur spun around on his chair to face the smirking American. "I swear, if you keep calling me that, I'll rip your bloody head off, you damn wanker!"

"Language, language," tsked Alfred. "Your bad habits are back~"

Groaning, the jade-eyed detective turned back to the screen, muttering more profanities under his breath. He found right before him a footprint that matched the picture they took on the screen before him. He clicked on the image, scrolling through the information to find that it was indeed a leaf on the bottom of the shoe, a maple leaf to be exact. _Why the hell would there be a maple leaf on the bottom of a shoe? Who else but some obsessive Canadian?_

"A Canadian?"

_Crap._"I voiced that out loud, didn't I?" He spun around again to come face to face with a pair of shell-shocked sapphire eyes, glassily staring at the screen. "Al? You okay?"

Alfred painfully grinned, discomfort written all over his face. "Yup, just peachy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to call someone. My dad."

"Okay," All Arthur could do was watch as his accomplice sprinted out of the room, frantically pulling out his cell and speed dialing along the way. _What's gotten into him?_ Shaking the thought out of his head, he resumed his research on the Canadian shoe that could have made the print. _Well, none of the people we questioned seemed like any sort of Canada fanatic at all._

* * *

><p>The security cameras that paranoid Arthur had set up in every room caught a clip of Arthur's venture after running off. Arthur never checked the film unless anything was missing, so he missed his comrade's significant conversation.<p>

_*Begin video*_

Speed dialing 6, Alfred threw open the door to his room and plopped down onto the bed, listening to the dial tone as he attempted to reach his father who he hadn't contacted in over a year after discovering a secret he hadn't known for almost his entire life. Thus, he ran away with Arthur to start a detective agency where he was content with his life.

Until now.

"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable..."

"Damn!"

He angrily waited for the computerized voice to continue.

"Please record your message after the beep and hang up when you are done recording."

*_Beep_*

"Hey, old man. Don't tell me Matthew is here in Boston?!... You know the doctors said that he's still unstable! He may be... (audio unable to be recorded) You don't know what'll happen to him if he stays. I know he wants... (static) but he can't just go running off!... Anyway, try to find him. After that... incident, you know you can't let him hang with other people or else... (audio to soft to be caught on tape) Make sure Ivan keeps an eye on him. See you, I guess."

Alfred pulled off his glasses and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and massaging the bridge of his nose, muttering quietly to himself.

_*End video_*

* * *

><p>A few days later, the duo had still been investigating the vexing footprint found in Boston Common. They still worked normally, but Arthur noticed that Alfred was more quiet and introverted, but didn't bother him about his problems.<p>

Thursday morning rolled in and an extremely pissed off Arthur awoke to the irritating ringing of his phone, blasting out a verse of his favorite song, but in this circumstance, he abhorred the sound of it. Groaning, he rolled over and flipped it open, giving in to the bothersome contraption. "WHAT. IS. IT..."

"Ah, Arthur! I have good news and bad news!" Francis's voice resonated from the phone. "Which do you want first?"

"I. DON'T. CARE." grumbled the half asleep detective, emerald orbs still glassy with sleep.

"Okay, then! I'll tell you both! First, good news. We have another lead!"

"Don't you usually tell bad news first? Besides, how's that little tidbit of info going to help?"

"Ah, ah, ah~ Wait a sec there! Bad news!" Francis's usually cheerful voice turned grim. "This time, the victims were human. There weren't as many bodies this time though."

Now Arthur was awake.

"WHAT? So now, instead of a killer with a fetish for popular domestic pets we have a legitimate murderer on our hands?"

"I'm afraid so. I'll meet you and Al at the same place we met last time. Remember the spot?"

"Yeah, I'll go wake up Al and we'll meet you there in 10, at 7:45." Arthur jumped out of his bed, flinging off the countless layers of blankets, throwing on some sweats and a corbeau sweatshirt emblazoned with "University of Oxford". He sprinted out of his room, barging into the room next door, jumping onto his partner's bed, flinging off the navy blue down blanket to reveal a curled up blond still sound asleep. "Al! We got a case!"

"Wha...?" was the sleep-ridden reply from the figure who blinked the sleep away from his eyes.

"It's a real murderer, as in actual people were killed!"

_Three..._

_Two..._

_One..._

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, that's about the same reaction I had when Francis told me. Anyway, we're meeting him at the Swan Boats again. Hurry!" He leaped off his the azure orbed man's bed to rush into the kitchen to microwave them a quick breakfast.

Alfred just sat there, unable to comprehend what he just heard. _People... murdered... MATTHEW! _He shot out of bed, pulling on navy jeans and a cerulean zip-up sweatshirt. Tugging on socks, his mind reeled. _Please, please, please don't let him be there..._

He donned his beige glasses and bolted into the kitchen where the microwave beeped to signal the finish of their breakfast. Arthur yanked open the ivory microwave door, tossing Al a cardboard rectangular prism with red writing. "Careful Al, the Hot Pocket's hot." Arthur warned

Even Alfred, whose mind was going mad with worry had to crack a smile at the hopelessly cheesy joke. "Let's go. We can eat as we walk and the freezing cold should cool these down too."

The fair-haired detective nodded as he yanked on his winter coat, zipping it up. He snatched his violet custom-made cereal bowl from the counter that had its own lid and handle for convenient carrying and to prevent spilling when he ate cereal on the go. Arthur threw on a scarf and gloves for good measure and grabbed his keys and phone. Alfred followed suit and locked the door behind them as they rushed out of their apartment. Sprinting the entire way to the meeting spot, they spotted the blond Parisian before he saw them. Their eyes met and Francis waved for them to follow him. It was early in the morning, so the sun had just barely risen in the frigid winter day. There were few pedestrians out, providing a reasonable amount of privacy from the public eye.

They approached a newly restricted area with yellow "CAUTION" tape, more blood seeping through dead grass. They crossed haematic snow, disgusted at the reeking smell of rust. Of blood.

"Here we are." Francis's voice cut through the eerie uncomfortable silence. The trio approached an area with four pale colorless bodies, both men and women, but all obviously void of life.

There was a young Caucasian woman in her late-teens, early-twenties, long chestnut hair stained with blood and strewn across her face. Her mouth was slightly open, her sea-green eyes staring glassily up towards the sky she would never see again. There was a gaping hole where her heart should have been, wound long closed from the freezing weather. Her knee-length glaucous dress was dyed crimson with dried blood from her multiple cuts and mutilations

Not too far from the woman was a man, not extremely old, around the same age as the previous woman, around his middle-twenties. He had shoulder-length blond hair, matted messily with dried blood. Unlike the woman, his eyes and mouth were closed, so his eye color was undefined. His black jeans and indigo jacket were dyed brown, the blood mixing in with the cloth. Similarly, he also had a unstaunched heart wound.

What was perhaps the cruelest of all was the young girl no older than 13 wrapped in the man's arms, most likely his younger sister. She had suffered the least pain, as a head injury showed she was unconscious at death. Her shoulder-length hair additionally matted with both her blood and her brother's, the limp violet ribbon turned umber. The formerly magenta dress had been splattered with blood of her own and that of her brother. There were tear stains streaked across her face, forming a faint path through the rivers of blood seeping down her face.

The last victim was a Asian teenager, most likely Korean, estranged from the others, his short brunneous hair strewn across his lifeless face. A perpetual smile was suspended on his pale visage, his filemot eyes turned dull with death. The teen donned a lilac sweater with formerly snow-white sweatpants that were now soaked with rust colored blood. He looked about 16 or 17, only a high school student.

The pair nearly gagged at the atrocity of the torture. All of the victims' hearts had been ripped out, countless contusions and mutilations covering their body, clothes ripped all over.

" We found IDs on their bodies and found that their names were Elizaveta Héderváry, Vash and Lili Zwingli, and Im Yong Soo."

"Who... Who would do such a thing?" Tears stung Arthur's eyes as he surveyed the gruesome scene before him, all energy drained from his voice. His cereal bowl slipped from his shaking hands and thudded against the grassy surface beneath their feet, sound silenced by the vegetation.

"That's the problem. We don't know. That's why we hired you. You will be paid, of course."

"Screw the money!" Alfred's furious outburst drew everyone's eyes to him. The sandy-blond grimaced at the carnage spread across the formerly peaceful Common. "We just need to catch the damn bastard who did this!" _It wasn't Matthew, it was that damn bastard that's behind this!_

"Agreed." the other two nodded in confirmation.

"Let's go back, Al. I can't stand this anymore..." Arthur gripped Alfred's arm, stabilizing himself, trying not to vomit at the sight of so much gore.

Squeezing Arthur's hand in reassurance, he led his childhood companion back to their flat, helping him into a couch. Arthur instantaneously burst into tears, not sobbing, but rather with silent tears streaming down his face, face contorted in anguish. All Alfred could do was hand him a cushion to cry into. Arthur accepted and buried his face into the cushion, crying until the tears ceased and his hiccups quieted.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to suddenly lose it like that."

"No worries. Just, are you alright now?" The bespectacled assistant bent over to examine Arthur's face, eyes red from crying, face flushed red. Alfred mussed up Arthur's hair a bit and left to prepare something to eat. He always thought of food as a comfort item when somebody was distressed. Arthur sat there, still clutching the pillow, slowly drifting off into oblivion.

* * *

><p>Alfred returned, ten minutes later with a bowl of soup and another of dry cereal. Spotting the dozing blond, he softly smiled and placed the bowl on the coffee table before him. Bringing back a thin blanket, he covered Arthur and grinned wistfully. He remembered when Arthur was so much younger, when he was 9 and he himself was only 8. He used to always run to Arthur for help and assistance, while Arthur would just whack him and tell him to "man up", but still beating up the bullies for him anyways.<p>

He chuckled at the slumbering figure and turned off the lights. Pulling on his coat again, he exited their dwelling. There was a talk to be had with Francis for some more info on the case.

* * *

><p>Arthur's eyes flickered open, emerald green eyes surveying the darkened room, searching for any sign of Alfred. "Al?"<p>

Silence was all that greeted him. On the table before him, he noticed a two bowls, the one of soup now lukewarm. He gratefully ate it both and noticed a blinking light from his phone. It displayed an alert of one new voicemail, digital clock shining 4:44 PM. Dialing to voicemail, the detective heard Alfred's voice ringing from the cell. "Hey, Iggy. If you're listening to this, you probably woke up already! Anyway, I left some soup and cereal for you and don't worry. I just left so I could talk to Francis a bit more. You know, find some more clues and stuff like that. We're in Boston Common right now, and they cleaned up most of the blood and removed the bodies, so I can guarantee a safe trip here without it resulting in you vomiting your stomach out. Come over if you want! 'Kay, see you!"

Grimacing in amusement, Arthur proceeded to don his winter coat for the second time that day. _Crud, I slept for over 7 hours... _He locked the door behind him and tromped down the creaky wooden stairs, past the Dunkin' Donuts. It was relatively silent, so he purchased a couple orders of hash browns, fresh and warm. Reaching the Common, he searched for his accomplice, finally spotting him near the site of the murder that morning. Shuddering with both cold and horror, he slowly crossed over, holding out a bag of hash browns.

Alfred grinned. "Thanks, Ig!"

"I told you, don't call me that!" Despite that, Arthur still grinned back.

"Anyway, I found out some other interesting info. Apparently, this guy's been out a bit before too, but it wasn't as major as these two." Alfred frowned, then continued, obviously bothered by some detail. "So he basically strikes every five days, so the next time he strikes it'll most likely be on Monday. We're basically going to stake out the the perimeter of the Commons with some police officers as well, since two people is too few to cover the full distance. Got it? Oh, and I'll meet up with you guys a bit later for the stakeout 'cause I have something I need to take care of. 'Kay?"

Arthur nodded. "So, Sunday night?"

"Yup, so we meet up at the main entrance."

"Alright then. What to do you need to take care of?"

A pained look shot across Alfred's face, a fleeting shadow, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "It's nothing major. Just a little something. I'll be round 20 minutes late."

Knowing he wouldn't be able to extract any more information from Alfred, Arthur just shrugged and mumbled a confirmation. He knew he was supposed to be in charge, but Alfred always seemed to beat him to the chase. Annoyance flitted across his visage. Catching the stubborn look on Arthur's face, the azure eyed companion smirked and patted him on the back as he passed by. "Don't worry. I have absolutely no intention of taking over your superior position, oh Honorable Detective."

Arthur lightly punched Alfred on the arm, bemused smirk telling him all he needed to know. He was forgiven and thanked in the same punch.

* * *

><p>Sunday night rolled in, and as the time neared midnight, Arthur grew impatient. Where in the world was Alfred? A silhouette approached him. Tensing up, he almost lashed out at the figure when it suddenly yelled out, "Whoa, wait a sec there!"<p>

"Al?"

"Yours truly!"

"What the hell took you so long? You're hopelessly late!" Arthur noticed that Alfred was out of breath and failing to catch his breath. His temper softened and he bent down, about to ask if the assistant was all right.

A shrill shriek pierced through the peaceful night air. They both bolted through the gates until they located where the cries were coming from. They halted in front of a sight Arthur wish he had never seen, breath catching in his throat. The figure splattered in blood turned towards the pair and moonlight shined on glasses and light brown hair, a deadly smile spread across his face, a carbon copy of the person right next to him.

Beside him, Alfred murmured softly, "Matthew…"

* * *

><p><em>Earlier that night...<em>

An innocent looking figure approached the wandering woman in a way that showed no animosity. Deeming the young man trustful, she followed him to a secluded area with the promise of a sight she'd never forget. The gentle night breeze swept her waist-length chestnut hair across her face as her eyes lit up with wonder at the fireflies dashing across the jet black sky. Her mouth opened slightly and she gasped as the lit up bugs flew circles around her.

She frowned when the young bespectacled man led her away. Was this not what he wanted to show her? Apparently not, as he led her further from the path, to a small grove of trees, a circle of grass in the center. Squinting, she could make out 5 or 6 figures laying on the ground. Why were they there? As she warily inched closer, she paid no heed to the approaching figure behind her, devious grin spread across his youthful visage.

Hearing the rustle of grass, she spun around, nearly tripping over her feet as she stumbled to get away, the hem of her dress tearing away as she struggled to escape. She had just come face to face with a moonlit knife and the face of a murderer. A hand grabbed hold of her wrist, another covering her mouth to prevent any sound of resistance.

He slowly dragged the tip of the knife across her snow-white skin, leaving a trail of crimson. Loud, pathetic whimpers filled the air. He frowned disapprovingly. She shouldn't make a sound, not at this stage. The plan must go on. There must be no aberrations.

The knife slid down to her chest, to the left. The whimpers of fear grew even louder, if that was even possible. He hissed in anger, stabbing the knife down into her torso, making sure to pierce her directly through her rapidly-beating heart, grinning as his hands were stained with the scarlet liquid, a shriek piercing through the silence, the last sound she would make. The fresh wound oozed out blood, staining the grass and snow, splattering her dress and his clothes with her warm fading life. Dropping the body onto the forest floor, he held his hand up to the moon, admiring his handiwork. This time was more satisfying, the look on her face quickly changing from joy to horror in a split second. He brought the hand to his mouth, licking off a thin path on the palm of his hand, mewling in pleasure at the coppery salty taste of blood.

Leaning over, he stretched out his hand to turn the corpse over so the her face stared at the moon. Horror was blatantly etched upon her pale face, still contorted in an agonizing scream. He grinned as he reached towards her heart area, digging his hand through the wound, stretching the bloody tissue out, searching for her heart. A cruel sneer appeared on his face as he found it, grabbing hold of the organ, yanking it out of her chest, more blood spurting out, splashing his face and hair. He licked his lips, face twisted in sadistic joy. He cradled the heart to his chest, murmuring softly, "Mine... Your heart is mine..."

A hiss of surprise. There were intruders upon his joyful ritual. He turned to face a pair of young men, one blond with emerald eyes opened wide with surprise. Such beautiful orbs. How he longed to glide over and rip them out...

The other... The other figure was an exact copy of himself, the same sapphire eyes locked onto his face. A single word slipped from his lips.

"Matthew..."

"Long time no see, brother dear." Dizziness overcame the psychotic urges. He collapsed into strong arms that wrapped around him protectively. A content smile now sat on his peaceful face.

* * *

><p>"Who are you?" Arthur voiced the thoughts both were thinking as they faced another character, this one taller than the other. "How do you know him? What did he mean when he called Alfred 'brother dear'? Answer me!"<p>

His companion placed a single hand on his shoulder. "Arthur, I think we should first find somewhere for appropriate for a conversation, don't you agree, Ivan Braginski?"

"We probably should, seeing as Matthew here," Ivan hefted the unconscious Alfred copy onto his shoulder, splattering his ivory scarf with the scarlet of blood. "is currently knocked out, and thank God for that." Dropping the polite act, he turned to Alfred. "And what the hell were you thinking of doing? You seriously thought that running into him would stop the carnage? You want me to bring out the damn pipe? Because I seriously will, you idiot! You should know better, you failure of a brother!"

_Woah, harsh._

Alfred shuddered in fear at the very thought of the infamous pipe of Ivan. He had faced it many times before and hoped to never see it ever again. Turning at the tug of his sleeve, he faced the extremely pissed off face of Arthur.

"Let's go find somewhere more appropriate to talk, remember?"

Happy to oblige, he turned back to Ivan. "Let's get to our apartment. We can talk there."

Ivan shrugged. "Alright."

The trio headed back to the detectives' apartment, entering as quietly as they could. Shutting the door behind him, Arthur turned and frowned at the pair before him. "I want an explanation. How the hell do you know each other and why do we have an unconscious murderer covered in blood at our place?"

"Well," Alfred began, "Matthew Williams is my twin brother, which I didn't realize I had until a bit over a year ago. Ivan is his psychologist and best friend. By the way, Ivan's only 28, a few years older than us."

"That doesn't answer my second question."

This time, it was Ivan's turn to answer. "Matthew is... emotionally unstable. After an encounter with some shady character at a bar one night, we have reason to believe that he has been under the influence of some random person he met, influenced to believe that he apparently hates people in general. Our theory is that he was hypnotized of some sort." Seeing the incredulous look on the detective's face, he responded, "It's not impossible you know. There are cases of actual hypnotism, where the victims have no idea of their surroundings or actions. It is rare to perform a successful and thorough hypnotism though..." Ivan shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I may be a psychologist, but that doesn't mean I'm a master of the mysterious mazes of the human brain."

"So, why does he need a psychologist?" queried Arthur, leaning in closer.

"When the black-outs first began, he became insane, obsessed with the idea that he was abducted by aliens. As time went by, they hired me, but Matthew became more and more withheld, not as outspoken. Our relationship was still rocky, but he warmed up more to me than he probably would some random creep. His parents decided I was to follow him around 24/7, to monitor his actions and behavior. That's why I'm here and why Matthew isn't out there dying in the cold somewhere in the the middle of nowhere."

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

"You know what? I'm tired, and I don't really want to think about anything right now." Arthur rose from his seat and left for his room. "Feel free to stay if you want, Ivan." He exited the room, into his bedroom.

Ivan smirked at the exasperated accomplice. "That's an interesting friend you have there."

"I know."

* * *

><p>Arthur awoke to feral screams, coming from his very own living room. He stumbled out of bed, throwing the covers off and sprinting to the adjacent room. "Whazzit?" The scene before him was both amusing and irritating at the same time. He glared at Ivan and Alfred, who were attempting to restrain Matthew, who was the one producing the wild shrieks. He raised an eyebrow querying as to why the restrained man would be thrashing around so wildly. "Anybody want to provide me with an explanation as to why you guys are holding down Matthew and why the hell he's struggling so much?"<p>

Ivan glared at the drowsy detective. "Stop staring and help us calm him down. He lost it after he woke up and saw the blood."

Exasperated, Arthur drew a hand through his messy blond hair, letting out a sigh. "Alright. I have a couple younger siblings, so I know how to control people when they're out of control." He approached Matthew, staring into his violet eyes. "Calm down." Matthew continued to struggle. Arthur cupped his face in hands, ignoring the thrashing young man's attempts to bite his face off. The detective leaned closer, tapping their foreheads together. "Shhh. Calm down. Deep breaths. You're safe. You're fine. Don't worry."

Matthew's whimpers and protests became increasingly quieter, his face and body relaxing, as if reassured by Arthur's whispers. "Where... am I...?"

Letting out a sigh of relief, he replied, "You're at my apartment. Al and Ivan are here. You want to have some alone time with them?" Arthur acknowledged Matthew's violent shake of his head and exited the room, heading back to his own. He began changing into a more appropriate attire for the day, stripping out of his rumpled pajamas into a more comfortable yet presentable sweater and jeans. Whispers could be heard from the room next to his, but he resisted any urge to eavesdrop. Even with such burning curiosity, the P.I knew how inappropriate it was to listen in on someone's private conversation unless it was during an investigation. The whispers ceased, which he took as his cue to reenter, flinging the door open, sending it crashing in to the wall.

"So, what'd I miss?"

Ivan grimaced, staring the the now immobilized door. "Not much. We were basically catching up on what happened, and all that jazz."

"In other words," Arthur threw himself onto the couch next to Alfred, leaning back into the relaxing fabric. "I missed a whole lot."

"Basically."

"Gee, thanks, Al. Now we need to catch him up." Rolling his eyes, Ivan drowned his voice in sarcasm.

Leaning forward, Arthur placed his head on his clasped hands, ready to begin the questioning. "First, Al. Why did you seem so shocked when the footprint was actually Canadian?"

"Fine, go for me first," Al grinned. "Well, see, Matt and I were actually twins, but when our parents divorced, my mom got custody of Matt and my dad was stuck with me. Matt moved to Canada, where a lot of junk happened, don't ask me what. Anyway, around a year ago, my old man finally got around to telling me exactly who Matt was and where he was, and what had happened to him," Al paused, waiting for a sign from his companion to continue.

"Go on."

"He told me that Matt had gotten into some trouble with some shady businesses. Of course, me being me, I didn't want to deal with all of the trouble so I ran off with you."

"And that's it?"

Alfred ran his hand through his hair, groaning. "Well, not exactly. Let's see, we figured out the business that messed with Matt, the name of the person who actually messed with Matt, Kiku Honda, who apparently hates all humanity, and where he is. Now the problem is, we don't exactly know if we're legally allowed to just storm into his café bar thing and arrest him for influencing murder upon an innocent person."

"Well, that's not much of a problem. We can just explain the situation to Francis and he can get us a warrant." Arthur stated simply.

"If it was that easy, I would have done it long a go," Ivan let out a sigh. "Do you really think he would believe all this junk about hypnotism?"

The four sat in silence, Matthew only because he was still somewhat in shock and fear. They couldn't think of any logical reason that would work. Beside them, a digital clock's fluorescent green digits showed "6:56."

Alfred finally broke the silence. "Let's get our info organized first: Honda runs a cafe in the morning and a bar a night. His establishment is in Toronto, still relatively far from here. How do we, in America, arrest someone in Canada? Do warrants still work across the border?" Realization dawned upon the group; that was the tidbit of information that they had overlooked, creating a fatal flaw in their plan.

"Who opts for asking Francis?" All hands were raised, except for Matthew's, who had dazed off five minutes ago. Ivan gently shook the sandy blond awake and they prepared to confront Francis.

"Where is he, anyway?" Ivan queried.

Both detectives grinned. "His favorite haunt."

* * *

><p>"This is where a police officer hangs out?" Ivan's voice was smothered with awe, disgust, and curiosity.<p>

"Nah, just Francis."

The trio stood outside of a club, shivering. The sun had now set, and the Boston nightlife kicked in. Currently, they were shivering in front of a neon sign flashing in multiple colors, "Heaven's Love Haven."

"I can't believe someone actually comes here," moaned Ivan into his hands. He grimaced, then stood straighter. "Now, thinking rationally. How. Do. We. Get. In?"

Alfred dismissed the complaint. "No worries, Francis is a regular, so we frequent here a lot." Waving to the bulky bouncer, he called out, "Hey Simon!"

"Alfred! Arthur! Are you looking for Francis again?" The bouncer-Simon-grinned at the nods. "He's still searching for the right woman. You want to bet on how many women have beaten him up so far?"

"Not today. Next time through, I'll raise the stakes."

"Brilliant!" The hulking man ushered them through the door. They entered a pandemonium, with people dancing and grinding on the dance floor, many actions near being rated X. The lights flashed around, red, green, blue, purple, yellow, all the colors possible. Music boomed through speakers around the club, making it impossible to hear one another. Each one of them devised a new creative way to cover their ears, Al and Arthur keeping it simple with plugging their ears with their hands. The other customers around them were wearing the least clothes possible on a person, some with only a single garment on, which usually was thin and skanky top or bottom. They weaved their way through the throng of dancing people, trying to avoid most of the contact.

"HOW THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO FIND FRANCIS IN HERE!" Ivan had to bellow to be heard over the stereo and booming bass, his efforts only partly in vain.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY!" Arthur replied with a yell of his own.

"I SAID-"

"FRANCIS ISN'T THAT HARD TO FIND! JUST LOOK WHERE MOST OF THE WOMEN ARE LAUGHING AND OR BEATING HIM UP! MOST OF THE TIME HE'LL BE FLIRTING, THEN PUNCHED BY EVERY SINGLE WOMAN HE TALKS TO!" Alfred was the only one who could actually hear over the music, but that didn't mean he could talk over it. Nonetheless, he surveyed his surroundings, edging past a pair of dancers who were no so much dancing as foreplay. Attempting to ignore the people around, he finally spotted Francis. Motioning for the others to follow, he stalked to where the hopeless Parisian was lying, idiotic grin upon his face, which was covered in countless bruises and hand marks.

Nearing into a distance where they could speak without screaming their lungs out, Alfred stood over Francis's figure. "How many tonight?"

"20," The policeman flashed a thumbs up. "Aren't I the best?"

"The best at getting beaten up by women? Yes. But we need info, not your data on women."

Francis pushed himself up to his feet. His face was now serious, all business. The other three just made it, Matthew on the brink of unconsciousness, Ivan extremely and thoroughly pissed off, and Arthur, with a bemused look on his face. Francis motioned for all of them to follow him to a private booth, aside from all of the hubbub of the club. He sat, others following. The booth was relatively small yet large for one of its size. It made ample space for its inhabitants, not wasting space with huge furniture but also utilizing the space between for a wooden table, polished and shining with wax. There was a mini fridge in the corner along with a cabinet, no doubt full of clothes for the ones with hangovers or just people who felt like becoming an all-nighter. They seated themselves; Ivan, Matthew, and Alfred on one side, Francis and Arthur on the other.

"Drinks, gentlemen?" Playing the part of the host, Francis ambled towards the fridge, opening it to reveal booze, alcohol, and just plain bottles of water.

"No, not right now. We need to discuss actual business."

Francis shrugged. "Your loss. He grabbed bottle of beer and plopped himself back down onto the couch, chugging the bottle. "Shoot. Whatcha got for me?"

"Matthew here was the murderer." Alfred began, gesturing towards his twin.

Spitting out his alcohol onto Ivan, who was sitting right in front of him, Francis sputtered, "Wh-what?"

"You heard me, only the true culprit wasn't him. It was this dude from Toronto. His name's Kiku Honda and he runs a café bar double establishment. We know it's him and we want to arrest him, but we need some basic info first. One, do arrest warrants here work across borders?"

"Well," Francis ran his hand through his hair, contorting his face into a look of extreme concentration. "I don't really work in that department, but if the crime is serious enough, I suppose it would work anywhere."

"Well, I suppose mass murder and the planning of the annihilation of the entire human race is dire enough."

"Again, what?"

"Ignore it. We're just trying to make a point. That is his aim though, to destroy the entire human race. Or at least most of it. He hates humans; let's leave it at that."

"Alright then. What else did you need to ask?"

'We only had two questions anyway. Do you know how to get to Canada fast and cheaply?"

* * *

><p>Alfred groaned at his informer's antics. "When I said fast and cheap, I didn't mean an airplane and cheap for us. When I said that, I didn't mean a freaking private jet!"<p>

Arthur frowned, urging for his partner to stop his incessant complaining. "Live with it. We might as well. It's not like it'll kill us or something. It's just an airplane. We have all the papers we need so relax for once." He leaned back into the seating, grinning in pleasure. "Besides, these seats are insanely comfortable. Come on, try one!"

Groaning, the assistant resigned himself to a seat, discovering that they actually were quite pleasant, but tried to ignore the nagging feeling that told him to sleep and leave it all behind him, to simply sink into ignorance and oblivion. Alfred drifted off to sleep, despite his mental protests.

Grinning at his childhood friend's dozing face, Arthur proceeded to settle himself for a short nap. The flight really was extremely short, and he had been up for much too long.

* * *

><p>Toronto. The capital of Ontario. Home of the CN Tower. The place where Arthur, Alfred, Matthew, and Ivan were currently standing, staring at the scene before them. Needless to say, it wasn't like Vegas or L.A, but it was still nice, put simply. There was a homey feeling to the area, like they were in a much more peaceful Bostonian area.<p>

"Where do we start?"

Arthur nodded towards a phone book beside a pay phone. "Anybody know what Honda's place is called?"

To everyone's surprise, Matthew answered, albeit softly. "It's called Chronos."

"Well then," Arthur thumbed through the phone book, searching for "Chronos." "Found it! Chronos, 456 Amber Road."

Ivan groaned. "How are we supposed to get there then? I know where Amber Road is, but it's over a half hour walking distance."

"Taxi?" A suggestion from Alfred, who innocently raised his hand as if he were still a schoolboy waiting for the teacher to call on him.

"Maybe, you hypocritical miser." Despite that, they still took a taxi, not specifying exactly where on Amber Road they were headed for. The ride there was rather uneventful, but actually getting to the destination was a whole other story. When they approached the compact building, they found it quite ordinary, contrary to the hellhole they imagined it as.

The sign was in cursive script, elegantly spelling out "Chronos." The shop itself was light blue and black, with flower patterns stenciled along the doorway and windows. There was a relaxed air around it, not at all threatening in any way. Nobody would have thought it to host a person who wished to eliminate mankind.

The bell on the door jingled as they entered warily. A cheerful looking young man greeted them from the counter. A few stragglers were left seated around the room, some eating and others blankly staring at the suspended TVs, eyes glazed over as they watched the sports playing on the screen.

Ivan approached the young man, glancing at his name tag. Yao Wang. "Do you know where Kiku Honda is?"

Yao shook his head as he continued to read his book, occasionally glancing up at his visitors. "Mr. Honda is in charge of the bar at night. He owns both stores, but I manage during the day and he manages at night."

"Do you know when he begins his management?"

Shrugging, Yao replied, "I get off at 7, so I'm assuming that's when he begins. That's all I know."

Ivan sighed. "Well, thank you anyway." He turned back to the trio. "What do we do for now? It's only three in the afternoon."

"Tourism?" was the apprehensive reply from Arthur. "I've never been in this area, so I don't have a single clue what it's like. You and Matthew, on the other hand, are from here, so I only assume you know where all the best restaurants and tourist spots are."

Reluctantly, Ivan played the part of the tour guide, with some helpful commentary from Matthew every so often. They continued to roam across Toronto, entering shops and staring at buildings, when Arthur finally remembered. "Don't we have to book a hotel?"

"No," Ivan answered, "We can stay at my place for the night if you want. I have extra rooms and it's actually quite close to here."

"Guide the way!" A grin spread across Alfred's face. "We've been walking for two hours and I'm exhausted!"

Ivan returned the smile. "You do realize you need to walk another five or so minutes, right?"

Alfred's immediate response was, "Carry me, Arthur."

Chuckling, Arthur rejected the command. "Absolutely not. There is no way I'm going to carry you. You're 24, for God's sake. Walk by yourself."

"Aaaarrrttthhhuuuurrr..."

Receiving a whack on the head, Al winced. A glare was sent from Arthur, leaving no more sympathy. "Stop it. You sound like Francis."

"But-"

"No excuses. Walk."

A growl rose in Al's throat as he shuffled his feet and muttered under his breath. Arthur's face softened, reaching his hand out to ruffle Al's hair, which was soft and silky. Glancing back in confusion, Alfred threw a querying look.

Arthur retracted his hand, then turned to Ivan. "Lead the way, oh majestic steed."

"... Did you really have to add the last part?"

"Yes. I agree with Al somewhat. I'm exhausted, and I want to stop walking, but we still need to get to your place someday, so let's go."

Ivan led them all to his apartment, which really only had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a central gathering area. In other words, it was perfect for the four of them. The walls were a pale peachy color, while the bedrooms were brightly colored and patterned. Furniture didn't match, strewn all over the floor and carpets. The entire place was in disarray, which Ivan claimed was to calm down the patients. Each room had a different atmosphere, allowing them to choose which was best for their attitude and habits.

They lounged around for the next four hours, watching TV and microwaving instant ramen, or in Arthur's case, raiding Ivan's cereal stash. When 7:00 came, they exited the apartment, heading again for Chronos. Reaching the building, they spotted Yao leaving, the door closing behind him. He broke out into a sprint, heading into a crowd of pedestrians.

"Um, do you think he's being suspicious or is he just in a regular hurry?" The question was responded with silence from the others.

"Anyway," Arthur cut in, "let's just follow him. I feel like he's up to something."

* * *

><p>They weaved through the crowd, avoiding the crowd and trying to keep an eye on the fleeing Chinese. Spotting Yao, they swerved to avoid a biker, finding that he was meeting up with another man, presumably Kiku Honda.<p>

"That little rat," hissed Arthur. "He lied to us." As if sensing the four, Kiku and Yao spun around to face their general direction. Ducking down, they continued to eye the pair. They watched as Kiku's face tensed and as he grabbed Yao's hand, dragging him through another throng of college students. The chase began, which involved much cursing, weaving through groups of people, tripping, cursing, more tripping, and a single of incident of Alfred accidentally crashing into a sign pole, which resulted in, again, more cursing and swearing. Finally, after five minutes of constant running, the fleeing pair came to a stop in front of a bus stop, where they calmly stood, waiting for the next vehicle to arrive.

They halted in their chase, three bent over panting while Matthew calmly stared at the duo, who were still standing there frozen stiff, no movement at all protruding from them. Their hands were still intertwined, as if the world would end when they let go of the other's appendage.

Arthur caught his breath, then stood with a mask of peace on his face when he was so obviously exhausted and agitated with the situation. He glided over to the bus stop as if he were any other ordinary citizen while silently pulling out his detective ID and the arrest warrant. Kiku and Yao didn't notice the approaching P.I in the darkness of winter, so they were caught completely and utterly by surprise when handcuffs were clasped around their wrists and they were spun around to face an extremely irate blond detective.

"Kiku Honda, arrested for planning mass murder, Yao Wang, arrested for assistance of said homicide. Now, if you'll both come with me, I believe we have some explaining to do and messes to be wiped up."

With the assistance of Alfred, Arthur somehow managed to hail a taxi and haul the pair into a car with them while Matthew and Ivan boarded another taxi. Giving orders to take them to the nearest police office they embarked on the ride that proceeded quite similarly to the chase just before, with thrashing and protest from the handcuffed two, sighs of exasperation from the detectives, and a thoroughly irritated driver.

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, in the other taxi...<em>

Ivan groaned, leaning back into the scratchy taxi seat fabric. "I feel like we haven't been able to do anything to help at all."

"That's because they're the detectives and we're the witness and victim. According to all the detective shows I watch, we don't really get to do much during the investigation." murmured Matthew softly. That was probably the most Ivan had heard the violet-eyed male say since they had found him covered in blood in Boston Common.

Grinning, Ivan grabbed the smaller boy and hugged him. They had become extremely close after their sessions together, and now Ivan viewed the other as a younger brother figure; he was insanely protective of him and despised it whenever Matthew was inconvenienced. "You're so adorable! It's kind of like I'm hugging a giant teddy bear."

Matthew grimaced, then attempted to wriggle out of his psychologist's embrace. "I swear, sometimes you treat me like I'm 10. I am 24, you know."

"Well, nice to see someone's getting chatty all of a sudden." commented Ivan with a smirk.

Flushing crimson, Matthew turned away, embarrassed by his chatty nature. It was natural for him to mutter to himself incoherently, but having a legitimate conversation with someone was a new experience. "Shut up..."

The Russian let go, amiably ruffling his companion's fluffy beige hair. "Don't worry yourself. I think it's nice that you're actually talking and not mumbling something under your breath that sounds suspiciously like a plan to murder me in my sleep."

Still blushing, the aubergine orbed young man spun around to face his psychologist, infuriated. "I do not plan your murder!"

"I know. I was just joking with you. Come on, let's stay calm for the rest of this ride, we don't want to make this nice taxi driver mad now, do we?"

The driver, Gilbert Weillschmidt according to his nameplate, called towards the back of the vehicle. "Don't worry. I'm enjoying the show here. This is nothing compared to what my bro Ludwig does."

Ivan raised his eyebrows in question, but didn't voice his many queries as to what in the world Gilbert's brother did.

* * *

><p>Upon reaching the police station, they ultimately had absolutely no idea what would happen next. Even though they had the warrant, they didn't know if it was actually usable. They entered the station, all of them silent and watchful of the officers around them.<p>

"And who might you fellows be?" An officer approached them warily. It wasn't every day that four people came in with two others in handcuffs.

"Oh," Alfred began. "Long story short, we're detectives who found these people planning mass homicide in the U.S and tracked them down to here. That sum it up?"

"Odd, but to answer your question, yes it does. May I ask why you're here then?"

"I'm fairly certain, Officer-" A peek at his name tag. "Lorinaitis, that felons are not allowed on public air transport. Besides, we can't exactly haul them onto a jet and fly them back to the states." Alfred began his protest about how they had a private jet, then decided better of it.

"I'll go consult the higher-ups. It's not like I can make the major decisions all by myself."

The officer left for 15 minutes, leaving the mismatched group hanging, standing awkwardly among the other police. When he returned, Toris Lorinaitis found the six sprawled across the couches in the antechamber, all with a bored look on their faces. Even the two handcuffed seemed to be detached from their surroundings, fingers still clasped together.

He coughed, effectively gaining the attention he needed. "The chief says that they can be taken back to the U.S for trial and judgement, since the crime was supposedly committed there."

Ivan jumped to his feet. "Alright then. Let's head back to the airport. I suppose Francis will want his jet back sometime."

Exiting the building, Alfred commented, "That was somewhat of a waste of time."

* * *

><p>After a long plane journey home, another trip to a police station, and leaving Kiku and Yao, they four finally ended up where the excursion had begun, the quaint apartment above Dunkin' Donuts®. They lounged on the couches that were still arranged neatly around the coffee table, all exhausted from the day's antics.<p>

"That was... invigorating to say the least. " moaned Arthur.

"True enough. Speaking of which, where are you and Matt going to stay, Ivan?" asked Alfred through the muffle of a cushion.

"I was thinking you could spare some sympathy and let us room here for a while? I don't really feel like flying back to Canada or finding a hotel here." Ivan's head was tilted over the backrest of his navy couch, staring at the ceiling.

"That's fine with me."

"I second that agreement."

Arthur flipped over to face the others. "We only have two bedrooms though. How will me manage that?"

"Simple. I sleep with you so Matt and Ivan can share my room." Azure eyes peered into garnet as a mutual understanding passed between the two.

"It's almost 11:00, so we'd better get to bed soon."

Ivan stood, hoisting up Matthew behind him. "I'll head on first with this guy. I think we can stand one night without brushing our teeth, so we'll head straight to sleep."

"Fine. You can use my pajamas. I keep them in the bottom left drawer in the cabinet to the right of my bed. Find one that fits and you can use it." Finishing his instructions, he heaved himself off of his couch and seated himself next to Arthur, who was on the brink of sleep. "Iggy... Get up. Don't fall asleep here. Come on..." He ruffled his companion's striking blond hair, hoping to awaken him. "_Iggy_..."

"Wanna... sleep... leave me alone..."

Alfred pulled up the dozing Brit by his arms, dragging him across the hardwood floor, ignoring the moans emitted by the protesting detective. He kicked open the door to Arthur's bedroom, tossing him onto the bed. Luckily, it was a queen size, so there was ample room for the both of them. "Change into your pjs. I'm going to take a quick shower."

20 refreshing minutes later, Alfred reentered the room to find Arthur in pajamas and curled up under his blankets. Grinning, he pulled on a pair of pajama pants and climbed in next to Arthur. "You up?"

"Mmm..."

Snickering, Alfred reached out and twirled a strand of his childhood friend's hair around his finger, all the while with an idiotic grin plastered on his face. "At least this giant mess has been cleared up. You must be exhausted."

"Mmm..."

"I'll let you sleep. Good night."

"Night..." A mumble was all it took for the same exuberant expression to return. Reaching over Arthur's head, he switched off the lamp, encasing them in darkness, where they could finally rest.

* * *

><p>I am very well aware of how the ending was kind of rushed, but the deadline for handing our final draft was approaching, so I kind of had to speed along the pace... I have no idea how law enforcement works, so don't judge me, okay? I might get along to revising it someday though... Review please~ I just might give you virtual cookies!<p> 


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